The Inn of the Prancing Pony
by Alpha-17
Summary: A Story involving mostly OCs, with Cannon characters crossing in, I have taken the idea from LotRO  Lord of the Rings Online  and my RP from there, Takes place in bree, around the time of the Fellowship of the Ring.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

The writer's of each chapter (so far) are the person who's P.O.V. it is so blame any errors on them ;) (though I did try to edit/correct all i could, but Word's spell check is not infallible :P )

**The OCs are:**

Angdalen Durendis of Gondor, and her friend/servant (who's mute) Belecthor  
They are owned by me.

Ysera Nightraven  
She is owned by...well i don't know her name, i only know her by Ysera ;)

as yet to be named stranger  
Is owned by Excaldiar.

This story started as a forum RP on our kinship's (on the Imladris server) website for the game Lord of the Rings On-line.

The kin is called "Guard of the Citadel" and for the back story on the kin as well as most of these characters is at

(and for some odd reason it wont let me put a link here so check my profile for the link if you want)

Anyway, please read and review!

* * *

It was a dark and rainy night….

A figure dressed in a black hauberk, cloak and wide-brimmed hat walked mostly unnoticed down the streets of Bree, trying to avoid the puddles as much as possible.

Glancing up she saw the sign swaying in the wind, faintly lit by the flickering glow of a lantern. "The prancing pony" It read. She looked down again pulling her hat lower to try and block out the driving rain as she made her way up the stairs and opened the door.

Once inside the smell of beer and wet patrons hit here, but after a moment it was no longer offending, it almost became welcoming.

She saw her father's old friend and faithful servant, Belecthor sitting at a table in a corner waiting for her and made her way over to him.

"The note I received said to meet them here." She when she had sat down, "And from the looks of the weather I'm thinking it would be best if we stayed the night." She said taking off her hat and tried to dry the feather.

Belecthor nodded and gestured with his hands.

"No Bel, I do not know what a Guard of the Citadel would be doing way out here, but father was sent to meet him," Belecthor motions again, "yes or her, so we shall meet `them' and hopefully find out what fathers mission was."

Belecthor nodded and leaned back in his chair and took a drink of his ale then set it on the table again.

And though he cannot speak he has mastered the art of making himself understood without words.

Thus so he asked if he could get Angdalen anything to eat or drink, she nodded and he went to go find Mr. Butterbur.

Just then the door to the inn opened again and another figure similarly dressed entered the room…


	2. Chapter 2

The black hooded figure stood silently at the door. A burst of lightning and thunder blasted behind the person, further confirmed Angdalen of the similarity between the ways they both dressed. The person shook his/her head lightly; one gloved hand came up to wipe off the rolling rain drops. Kicking the door shut behind, the person stepped into the inn wordlessly, and the silence generated by his /her presence seemed to swallow up the comfortable aura there.

Angdalen waited patiently, her keen eyes followed the newcomer closely...

Finally, the person stepped onto the light from the warmly lit fireplace, revealing a pale, fair face, remarkably elvish, and a pair of ancient blue eyes which seemed to reflect every movement of the fire. The elf, who had noticed the gaze from Angdalen, perked her head up and returned the look coldly.

There was only one thing which ran through Angdalen's mind at that moment: What would an elf be doing here, in the uniform of a Guard?

Ysera Nightraven was not in a good mood. The sudden disappearance of Ingdan and Einaar had taken a toll on her, and the only letter the former Captain of the Guards did not fix anything. Addressing her as the new Captain, what was he thinking? The instructions were left for her were mostly mysteries, and she had worn out her mind trying to solve half of his confounded papers. Sure, Ralinglori had been trying to help much, and Alcare had been much fussing around and about, but Ysera could not help but feeling exhausted.

And this travel happened to be one amongst many other things she had to take care of in his stead.

The person the Lore-master was supposed to meet should have been a man. A man of much respected Second Company, not a child of Men. Though throughout her long life, the elf knew better to not prejudge others, but honestly, with what was left of Ingdan's instructions, it truly drove her mind insane.

The Lore-master inspected the woman in front of her, who boldly gazed right back. Rising an elegant eyebrow, the elf mused at the girl's courage, before asking aloud, "Are you the lost member of the Second Company of the Guard of the Citadel?"


	3. Chapter 3

"So this is what one of the Eldar look like" Angdalen thought to herself as she observed the elf standing by the fire. She indicated to Belecthor, who was standing near the bar after retrieving a tray of food from Mr. Butterbur, to remain out of sight of the elf and to wait.

She turned her eyes once again to the dark haired elf, and met her cold blue stare. Her hand dropped momentarily towards the hilt of her sword, before she checked herself, and retrieved her hat instead.

"What would an elf be doing here, in the uniform of a Guard?" She thought.

Then the elf spoke, with a voice cold yet fair,

"Are you the lost member of the Second Company of the Guard of the Citadel?"

"I may, and I may not, it depends on why one of the Eldar wishes to know. Come, have a seat and we shall talk."


	4. Chapter 4

Suddenly a sudden silence fell across the inn, as all eyes turned to the elf, all eyes except one, a pair that watched with silent interest and veiled mirth.

This pair of eyes had been watching the elf since she had enter the prancing pony and had been watching Angdalen for much longer. The eyes belonged to a cloaked figure who sat in the corner wearing a torn traveling cloak with the cowl pulled far over their eyes through which could been seen another cloak on of much higher quality, black sable with a velvet sheen the cloak resembled the ones worn by both Angdalen and the newly arrived elf.

Suddenly the light on the stranger increased as they inhaled through the gnarled pipe that was clenched between their teeth although the light didn't reveal any useful features of the stranger's face it did illuminate the top of their clothes.

They wore a simple grey shirt and pants typical of the Bree-men, like the cloak they were tapered and splashed with mud. However in the second or so of light the pipe provided, and you had walked up to the stranger and looked very hard at their chest you would have noticed that part of the shirt was fraying and was slightly see-through. Through this slight gap you would have seen a hauberk made of shining metal chainmail and black leather and cloth.

As the stranger blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth and inhaled again a question flickered across their mind: "should I intervene and make myself known to the guards who stood (and sat) but meters away but then the question was dismissed. They would do their duty and carry out their orders. They would observe the two for now and see how the scene unfolded.

After gazing spending what seemed like an age of staring at each other and having the inn stare at them...


	5. Chapter 5

Ysera rose an elegant eyebrow at Angdalen's answer. The Lore-master had noticed the slight movements of the woman, hands dropping to the hilt of her sword, but masked by the grabbing of the large hat. And the elf also noticed, at the corner of her eyes, a figure cloaked and hidden in the far shadow of the inn, whose gaze had been fixed upon the woman and herself the entire time. The Lady smirked nearly invisibly...

"Well, of course we shall talk this through. However, it seems like there is someone else who would wish to join us..."

Angdalen seemed rather confused for a moment, then her eyes widened instantly at the swift movement of the elf. Customers screamed, ales dropped and dishes broke. The Lore-master had drawn her sword, but not at Angdalen, Though she had drawn hers in response. The bright steel sword of the elf was pointed at the person at the corner of the inn. The figure startled visibly, as the elf pulled down her hood, eyes glowing with unreleased power.

"Show yourself, whoever you are."


	6. Chapter 6

Notes:

Thank you all for your reviews and hope you enjoy this next update as much as I did ;)  
And instead of making each chapter from each writer, i made this one from several, so again, each POV is written by that person :D

Thanks,

~Alpha

* * *

A moment of doubt flickered in Winterwolf's mind, (for that was the name of the cloaked stranger) as to should he reveal himself as a guard of the citadel or pass himself off as a stranger?

His mission had been to find out and report how the new captain of the guards had been copping in the absence of Ingdan and Einaar, to observe quietly and report back to Denethor II and the white city of Minas Tirith. His mirth showed in his eyes as he thought to himself that the elf was certainly worthy of the rank that had been newly appointed to. But long years of service in the guard had taught him that first appearances weren't everything...

Then in a moment his decision was made and he smiled. Suddenly he stood, in the process shedding the raggedy over-clothes he wore to reveal a shining hauberk and cloak similar to the one both Angdalen and Ysera wore. It also revealed a massive longbow strapped to Winterwolf's back and most surprisingly of all the pointed ears of an elf.

He then bowed deeply to Ysera and introduced himself.  
"I am Winterwolf of the retainer of fifth company of the Guard of the Citadel, sent here on the orders of Denethor Son of Ethelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor. I am honored to meet you. There have been many tales of your achievements, the things that earned you your place as a captain of the guard."  
He hesitated, the humor gone from his voice, it was good to be back in his home land or near it anyway but there was something about this elf and the woman who sat behind her watching with so much interest. They were... different... from the friends and colleagues he'd worked with in Minas Tirith, not more seasoned or hardened, he had seen the hell that all soldiers had to contend with defending Gondor, for bit by bit living in the shadow of Mordor took its toll. But with these two they seemed to be more... prepared, more steadfast.

Winterwolf sighed and sat back down.  
"The truth is... the war does not go well, every day the firestorm of Mordor hits harder and harder on Gondor more and more of our people's blood is being split!"

Angdalen raised her eyebrows in confused amusement, wondering if he is making jest, or if he is serious.  
"You speak as if you are a man, yet you are an elf?"

Winterwolf smiled,  
"I spent so much time among men, eating your food, living in your city, defending your borders and when I would have spare time I would go into the archives and read all the history of Gondor, the history of middle earth though the eyes of men. I have spent decades guiding the race of man, especially Gondor. And now I have been sent here by the steward to..."  
He paused, "Join your ranks, if you will have me."  
One again he stood up and bowed both to Ysera and Angdalen.  
"But now I need something to quench my thirst, and Master Butterbur gets his apple cider straight from the valleys of Ered Luin" he smiled the bubbling mirth reentering his voice as he walked over to the bar and ordered himself a drink.

* * *

"I had heard that the ways of the Eldar were strange but still..." Angdalen thought to herself as she hesitantly sheathed her sword and set upright the chair that she had knocked over a few moments before, her heart still beating a little rapid.

She caught Belecthor's glance and bid him stay for the moment. Her attention then turned to the two elves, and apparently, Guards of the Citadel, and the rather frazzled Mr. Butterbur...

* * *

Ysera, once again, raised an eyebrow at the elf. Being humble is certainly not seen in most elves. As skeptic as a dwarf, the Lore-master has a policy to never trusts anyone at first sight, second sight and whatever it must take. But to start a bar fight is not her personal preference (for now), being a Guard and all. And Ysera believes firmly that Mr. Butterbur has not forgotten her last brawl with Einaar, so it is best to let this slide, just for once.

Decision made, the Lore-master withdrew her sword. The sword she won from a bet with a-not-so-merry-elf of Mirkwood, and walked to Barliman, asking for a private room where the three of them can talk without being heard or seen. The Lore-master has already detected eyes upon them, not of the curious sort, but of malice and deceit. Indicated for the elf and the woman to follow her into a room far down the corridor, the Lady elf closed the door silently behind them. And nobody has noticed, outside of the door, a lynx prowls nearly invisible, ready to strike any who dares to disturb the meeting.

The Lore-master quickly extinguished all the candles in the room, save for the merry flame in the fireplace. When all was done, she turned around and stared at the two other persons, eyes cold and masked, "Explain yourselves."

* * *

Silently thanking the Valar that the elves didn't make a scene, well more of a scene that is, Angdalen followed the two others.

But since she didn't trust ether of them as far as she could throw them, told Mr. Butterbur in passing to send her friend (Belecthor) with the drinks and food, praying that he would not forget, again.

As she left the main room she noticed several men of darker completion watching them with unfriendly eyes, as opposed to the fright and suspicion in the other patrons gaze. Walking down the hall, she carefully confirmed the location of the two small throwing daggers she carried under her cloak, just in case.

Once inside and after the lady elf extinguished the lights, letting the fireplace be the only light in the room. Then she turned, eyes seeming to glow in the dim light, cold and unreadable.

"Explain yourselves."

A simple question, but where to start, what information to trust them with, do I speak first, or let the "Gondorian" elf go first. Finally, she decided to go with the basic facts.

"I am Angdalen Durendis, daughter of Anorion, a Captain of the Third Company. He fell in battle while journeying to meet the captain of this band, whom I assume to be you my lady. I wish, if you are indeed a Guard of the Citadel, to join in his place."

She bowed, then stood there with there with her arms crossed not about to say another word until she learned more of these strangers.

* * *

Ysera inclined her head in acknowledgement at the woman, Angdalen. Anorion was indeed the name mentioned in the paper (one of the _papers_ that is). But, of course, being as skeptic as the Lore-master is, she could not simply accept such a simple explanation. Especially in such a dangerous time, when enemies lurk around every corner, no-one can trust anyone fully without knowing much of the other...

Sitting down upon a wooden chair, the Lady elf, much to the other two's bewilderment, threw both her legs on the nearby table. Crossing her arms comfortably upon her lap, Ysera smirked, "We have no rush. Please take your time and tell me your story."

* * *

Tell me what you think? anything welcome, ya know, like:

"that's good"

"this stinks"

"YOU #$#%#^^ THIS IS %!#!#?"

(Though more detail in your comments is preferred ;)

~A


	7. Chapter 7

Winterwolf collapsed into a chair by the fireplace and then gulped down his cider in a very ungraceful and un-elf like, putting the glass down he regained his composure.

"You know my name, you know from where i come and you know partly of my mission here. What more do you wish to know?"

He was being cautious trying to find out the elf's intentions before rushing headlong into something he couldn't handle. (He'd always been a patient elf, a quality that made him a perfect hunter)

He had been warned specifically and in no short amount of detail that Ysera Nightraven WAS dangerous. There were tales (when looked for and carefully researched) about how many a guard ended up on the wrong end of her sword. So Winterwolf's normally bubbly and boisterous nature had been quelled with caution and care. Before he departed the city of kings Denethor II himself had taken Winterwolf aside and warned him of the traitorous and silver-tonged elves and their devious ways, forgetting in his madness of race WinterWolf belonged to.

"Well" he said looking with a smile at the serious looks on both the faces of the elf and the woman. Suddenly he wondered how many times a year they smiled and decided it was probably fewer than 10. His own smile widening he waited for the inescapable onrush of Questions that would surely follow...

* * *

Ysera smirked, more profoundly this time at the outrageous elf. Tilted her chair back so it balanced on the hind legs, she inclined her head a little to look at him like the bird she was named after.

"You do not have to tell me the story of yourself if you do not wish to. However, that would result in putting you unto the same rank as a stranger to the Guards, and at this situation and timing..."

The Lore-master paused a little and smiled at the Hunter brilliantly but chilled to the core,

"...You might be treated no different than a spy, considering you know so much about us and even have the Hauberk...No, my good elf," her lips twitched at the implication, "I shall not trust anyone who does not prove to be worthy of my trust. For the sake of this scattering band of Guards, I shall not accept such explanation."

* * *

"Ha!" laughed WinterWolf "That is some choice!"

His face flickered with nostalgia and sadness as his mind turned to another choice, one tasked to his entire race, one that he had declined and his siblings had accepted. He remembered how it felt, making that choice, the feeling that what he choose now would change him for the rest of his days.

Right now, at this moment: he felt the same...

Winterwolf's face had fallen for a second affected by the thoughts that had plagued his mind, but now he regained his normal cheery visage as he looked up at the two women standing over him.

"However if you wish to hear my story, you shall" he declared re-settling himself into the most comfortable recesses of his chair, "however I would advise you pull up a chair" he said his face a picture of innocence as he spoke.  
Looking at Angdalen he said "Although I am only a very young elf" he said smiling "You men seem to consider Six hundred and twenty seven years a long time" he said his blue-grey eyes sparkling as a grin once again burst onto his face.

* * *

For the first time that evening, Angdalen smiled. "I had heard the name of Winterwolf before from my father, and I believe "Lunatic" and "Cheeky" were also mentioned."

She relaxed slightly, knowing, though not for sure, that at least one of these strange elves were not a threat. For he did match the description that her father given her many years before, after his brief encounter with the elf. So at last she too, being that last one still standing, pulled up one of the chairs and took her seat, a little further away from the table then the others should she need to rise and draw her sword quickly.

"I do have one question of you, friend," she said turning to the lady elf, the skepticism returned to her voice, "I wish to know your name. Master Winter seems to know of you, but I do not, if he does not mind my interruption, I wish to know more of you before we continue."

Meanwhile….

Belecthor watched the two elves and Angdalen go down the hall then into a room around the corner. He waited a minute, wanting to see the reactions of the other patrons, and then walked over to Butterbur and tapped him on the shoulder. (For he saw Angdalen talk to him briefly before she left.)

"Eh? What's that? Oh yes you're that strange lady's servant, she asked for me to have you bring in the food and drinks that ye ordered to the back room. Now where did it... oh, well let me get you another, Hey Nob! Where are you woolyfootedslowchoach?"

While Belecthor waited for Barliman to get another tray of food, (for the other one had been dumped during the chaos a few minutes before) he noticed a couple of the more swarthy looking men talking, every now and then looking down the hall where the trio and gone, then one of them left. He didn't like the look of those two, he would have followed the one that left, but he was needed here, for he didn't trust those two elves more.

He retrieved the tray of food from Nob and overheard Barliman saying something about "…last week it was those dreadful riders after that Mr. Underhill, now these strangers from the east, I hope that…ah hold your horses, I'll be right with ye, NOB! WHERE ARE YA!..."

As he walked down the hall with the tray, he suddenly got the urge to sneeze, and that meant one thing…Cats.


	8. Chapter 8

Back in the room Winterwolf splayed his hands saying to Angdalen "I may be cheeky, but I assure you I am only a lunatic when there is a full moon, but by all means feel free to interrupt, I am a very patient elf"

* * *

The Lore-master stared at the woman, contemplating. Silence hung upon thin air, only the crackling noise of the fireplace was heard. And she released her hold on the chair, causing it to hit the floor on all four with a rather loud thud.

"I am known as Ysera Nightraven. And I am currently the Captain of this scattering band of Guards, in the stead of young Master Ingdan of Gondor."

* * *

"Thank you M'lady, I suspected as much from the stories one hears around the Citadel, though I wished to make sure." Then turning to Winter, "Please continue Master Wint…."

And so it was that at that moment a loud crash and clatter, followed by a growl and the sound of a scuffle was heard just outside of the door….

Outside of the door….

Belecthor was trying his best not to sneeze when right before he could knock on the door, a large lynx seemed to appear out of nowhere on his left and growled menacingly at him, crouched and ready to spring.

Quickly he flung the items he was carrying at the feline, (Which on second thought may not have been such a good idea considering that now the cat was wet AND mad.) while flipping the tray and holding it to use as a shield, and drew the short sword he carried on his belt just in time for it to lunge at him hitting the "shield" full force knocking him over….


End file.
